


Practice

by intangible_girl



Series: Genius Next Door [2]
Category: Avengers 2012, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Family, Gen, Not very angsty, Science Bros, With A Twist, but not very not either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intangible_girl/pseuds/intangible_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being the Hulk is something Bruce has to practice. But so, he begins to find, is being Bruce.</p>
<p>AU where a teenage Bruce gets sort of adopted by Tony and Pepper. Things... don't go all that smoothly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They never talked about Bruce coming back to California with Tony and Pepper once repairs on the tower were complete, but it was generally understood by all parties that he would. It seemed natural, and Bruce, who had never even been to the beach, was excited to live in a house with an ocean view, not to mention a full workshop complete with robots he jokingly called Tony's kids. Leaving the East Coast behind would be a chance to start a new chapter of his life, figure out who he was without the specter of tragedy hanging quite so thickly over him. He would never fully be able to leave it behind, he knew that, but still. It was always sunny in California, right?

It rained the day they flew in.

Looking at the raindrops rolling fat and smooth down the car window and trying to ignore the ominous feeling they gave him, Bruce was only vaguely aware that Tony was talking to Steve on the phone, so he was startled when Tony leaned forward and held the phone up to his ear.

“No, that’s Malibu _Point_ … You know what, I’ll just text it to you, say hi to Bruce.”

“Hi Bruce,” Steve said in his ear, and Bruce smiled shyly, watching the window with foreboding.

“Hi,” he said.

“I hear you’re moving to California.” Steve sounded cheerful, and somehow well-rested. Bruce nodded, and then remembered to speak.

“Yeah.”

“When I get out there, I’ll come visit.”

“Cool,” Bruce said, and he meant it. It would be good to see Cap again. Tony pulled the phone away and said his goodbyes before hanging up. Bruce curled in on himself a little upon realizing that his responses had been entirely monosyllabic. Steve would forgive him, right?

“Hey,” Tony said, and Bruce turned to him, shoulders suddenly tense. He wasn’t sure if it was the rain or the unusually serious expression on Tony’s face, but he curled his fists around the cuffs of his jacket and tried not to fidget. “Look, you’re practically a grown up by now, right? And I know you talked about going to college, and… Look, what I’m trying to say is, you’re always welcome to stay with us, no matter what, okay? But if you want to get your own place, that’s cool too. We can set you up. Where ever you want to go, you are free to go.”

Bruce felt the pit of his stomach drop out ( _are they kicking me out?_ ), and it must have shown on his face, because Pepper finally hung up her phone and leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee.

“What Tony _means_ to say is that we’ve been talking and, if you’re okay with it, we’d like to formally adopt you. If you’re so inclined. But only if that’s something you want.”

His stomach, which hadn’t recovered from the earlier jolt, lurched painfully, and he felt his brain go fuzzy and distant like he was watching himself from outside his body. They wanted to adopt him? His first thought, before his brain finally rebounded, was that he was too old to be adopted, but then, he supposed, he was still technically a minor. Unless you counted SHIELD’s forged paperwork. Would they be adopting Bruce Banner or Bryce Bantam? In his memory his mother smoothed her hand over his forehead, smiling sadly, and he turned his head to look out the window again.

“I don’t know,” he croaked.

“Take your time,” Pepper said kindly. “It’s a big decision.”

“I wasn’t supposed to mention it yet,” Tony confessed. Bruce leaned his head against the cool glass and breathed on it, drawing the quadratic equation in the fog. He didn’t speak until they reached the house, and then in the bustle of getting everyone inside without getting too wet, the topic was dropped completely.

 


	2. Chapter 2

His room was huge, and it looked like something out of a magazine article. Pepper told him he could order anything he wanted to personalize it, but as he stood in the sparse room and set his bag down on the gigantic bed, he felt an itch to do something now. He hesitated, and then took down all the super fancy art pieces on the walls and stacked them together on the floor. Then he flung the blankets off the bed and dropped them in a pile. Next he picked up one of the slim metal and leather chairs and set it at odd angles to the table it was paired with. He pulled out the remains of his lunch from the flight and set it on the dresser top, where it tipped over and spilled out. 

He sat down on the bed and surveyed his work, and was immediately horrified to realize that in order to feel more at home he’d turned the place into a lifeless pigsty. He was in the middle of trying to remake his bed when Tony poked his head in and invited him to dinner. He did nothing more than glance at the stack of pictures, but Bruce couldn’t look him in the eye until the middle of dessert.

“I was thinking a movie, how about it Pep?” Tony said, waggling his eyebrows hopefully. Pepper sighed fondly.

“Tony, I can’t. I have a conference call with the Japan office in less than an hour and I need to get ready.”

“Awww, please? Bruce, back me up here.”

Tony was making puppy dog eyes at Pepper, but Bruce knew that never worked on her. He, on the other hand, had a secret weapon. He shrugged.

“I dunno,” he said, poking at his food disinterestedly, not looking at Pepper. “We never watched movies together. Dad always said it was a waste of time.”

Pepper bit her lip as Bruce continued shoving food around his plate nonchalantly. Finally she caved.

“Alright, but I can only stay for the first part.”

Tony whooped and got up to set up the movie. Bruce tried not to smile, but he was unsuccessful, and he looked up from his food in time to see Pepper wink at him. Blushing, he ducked his head back down, but she didn’t say anything as she went to join Tony on the sofa, and he followed, feeling warm inside.

-

Bruce woke up several hours later in his own bed, and he lay there for a brief moment wondering how he'd gotten there. Then he decided that despite his jet lag and the late hour he didn’t feel like sleeping anymore and got up to see if Pepper and Tony were still awake. 

They were.

Bruce stood frozen in the doorway as the two of them made out passionately on the couch. Pepper arched her back as he watched, making a little noise that sent heated shivers into the center of Bruce’s belly. Tony leaned forward and kissed her throat reverently, and Bruce finally found the presence of mind to back away when Tony began to slowly lift her shirt up over her head. He retreated back to his room gasping and sat on the bed with his hands resting carefully on his knees, trying to steady his breathing. It wasn’t easy. His mind kept twitching back to the scene in the living room, and he actually got halfway through imagining what Pepper looked like topless before he remembered her earlier offer, at which he flopped over on his side and buried his face in the comforter. Was this what they called an Oedipal complex? Did it count if you weren’t technically related? God, how was he going to live with her now? He groaned and balled his fists in his hair, yanking on the strands as though the pain would distract him.

“If I might suggest, Master Bruce…?” said a voice, and Bruce flinched. Oh yeah. JARVIS.

“Huuh?” he said groggily.

“There is a video screen in this room, should you wish for some late night viewing.”

“Uh… yeah. Sure.”

“Do you have a preference?” JARVIS asked, window already turning opaque and flashing TV channels.

“Cartoons?” he ventured.  He wondered if JARVIS had been suggesting something a little more adult, but he was hardly in the mood right now.

“I know just the thing,” JARVIS said, and suddenly MAD was playing with the volume turned low. Bruce curled up around his still messy bedding, and soon enough he was engrossed, totally distracted by the silly humor.

“Thanks JARVIS,” he said through a yawn, right before he fell asleep.

“You’re welcome, Master Bruce,” JARVIS murmured softly back.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week he saw little of Pepper and a lot of Tony, who was buried in building more Iron Man suits than Bruce really thought he needed. He cleared a space in his lab for Bruce to work at, and taught him how to play catch with his robots, who were as good as dogs, at least to Bruce, who’d never been allowed to have one (a robot or a dog). He spent his time re-recreating his research about the super soldier serum, and then looked up at the end of the week and realized he never wanted to look at DNA sequencing charts ever again. He sat back in his chair, trying not to stare at the bright lights as Tony spot welded something on the other side of the lab, and heaved a gusty sigh, slouching until his head rested on the work bench in front of him.

DUM-E rolled over just then, nudging his arm softly. He patted the robot absently, and when he didn’t pay it more attention than that it pinched his shoulder, lightly.

“Ow,” he said. “Cut it out, DUM-E. What do you want?”

The mobile arm waved around in the air as though gesturing and then plucked at Bruce’s shirt, rolling slowly away. Bruce got up and allowed himself to be dragged, lips quirked upward in a reluctant smile. He found himself being led to the counter top where Tony kept his smoothie supplies, and he frowned in displeasure right before his stomach growled loudly.

Despite not being in possesion of a face, DUM-E still somehow managed to contrive an air of smugness. Bruce stuck his tongue out at him and then set to work making himself a smoothie.

He made double portions and wandered over to Tony’s workstation to hand the other glass to him. Tony flipped up his welding mask and grinned at him before accepting it.

“How’s it going over there?” he asked, and Bruce shrugged moodily.

“I don’t know,” he said. “If I never have to look at Compton scattering charts again I might die happy.”

Tony chuckled and took a rag out of his pocket, wiping the sweat off his face.

“You stuck?” he asked, taking another sip. Bruce stared into the brightly colored drink in his own glass, trying to comb together the scattered fleece of his thoughts.

“I want to do something that matters,” he said finally. “The super soldier project is a dead end. It was a dead end a long time ago. I want to do something that helps people, like… curing cancer or something.”

Tony hmm’d a moment, and then tipped his head up slightly.

“JARVIS, bring up all the project files for the Stark Industries medical subsidiaries, including the HealthTech stuff, we still have proprietary rights there, don’t we?”

“Indeed, sir. Accessing now.”

A holoscreen burst to life between them, flickering through images of various medical equipment and schematics, as well as a few drug formulas and things that flashed past too quickly for Bruce to identify. Tony nudged it toward him casually.

“Take a look through that stuff, see if anything inspires you. There should be some prototypes and other ideas I’ve had that never got made in there, too.”

Bruce nodded absently, pinching a corner of the screen and dragging it back with him to his workstation, already engrossed. He forgot about the drink in his hand until he moved it to gesture at the screen, and then he drained it in one gulp and set it down on the table before forgetting about it again. After a while Tony started welding again, the bright spot shimmering through his holoscreen, but Bruce barely noticed.


	4. Chapter 4

After that first week Tony had a lot of meetings with investors and reporters and other people who thought they were important enough to demand a slice of Tony Stark’s time. Bruce, who had been caught briefly by the siren call of fame, was suddenly and intensely glad he was anonymous. Oh, people wanted to know who the kid Stark had taken into his home was, but no one thought to connect him to the big green monster that had smashed its way through the alien horde and a large swathe of New York as well. The working story was that he was the child of a friend who was looking at a possible career in engineering. No interviews would be given, which was just fine with Bruce.

At an off-hand suggestion of Pepper’s Bruce took up surfing.

But even as nice as it was living in California and as kind and tolerant as Tony and Pepper were, and as much as they tried to make time for him, they barely had any time for themselves, and Bruce found himself occasionally wandering the mansion listlessly, unsure of what to do with himself.

“JARVIS, when is—” _When is Tony coming home?_ “No, never mind. Uh, how are you doing today?”

“I am well, Master Bruce,” JARVIS said, with what Bruce would swear was amusement in his voice. “Mister Stark will be home late tonight, regrettably.”

“Oh?” Bruce said, feigning disinterest, despite the nagging feeling that JARVIS could see right through him. “Oh, that’s too bad. What about Pepper?”

“Miss Potts will be home considerably earlier.”

Bruce worried the corner of his mouth with his teeth before venturing:

“Do you think she’d like it if I made dinner?”

“I am sure she would, Master Bruce. Would you like some recommendations on what to make?”

“Yes, please,” Bruce said gratefully, because while he could certainly microwave things that came from a can, that was no way to treat a lady.

“Very well. I believe it would be wise to begin with a simple chicken carbonara…”

-

Pepper walked in the door about five minutes after Bruce pulled the garlic bread out of the oven. He grinned a little to himself, pleased at the fortuitousness of her timing, and walked to the door to escort her into the dining room and maybe play up his own cooking prowess in the process, confident JARVIS wouldn’t rat him out and mention the three inedible chicken breasts now decomposing in the garbage. Pepper turned from setting down her bag and smiled brightly at him; but her smile was off and Bruce felt the air in his lungs turn solid and try to crawl up his throat.

A huge bruise, purple and blue and yellow around the edges, was already forming a lump over her temple and down her cheek to the base of her chin.

His mouth opened slightly, but no noise came out. Pepper shrugged off her jacket and set it down too.

“Looks pretty bad, doesn’t it?” she said, lips curling stiffly in amusement. “You should see the other guy.”

A tiny sound finally escaped from deep in Bruce’s chest, a result of his lungs desperately trying to squeeze air back into them and having no luck at all. She didn’t seem to notice, just reached up and took out her bun, tossing her hair loose as she walked past Bruce and into the kitchen.

“I’ll tell you about it over dinner. JARVIS tattled on you, but he didn’t say what you were making. It smells good, whatever it is.”

He trailed after her, feeling like he was four years old again. She was still talking, wondering out loud about the smells coming from the kitchen, but all Bruce knew was that he had to start breathing again or there was going to be a big green problem really soon.

“Bruce?” her voice finally penetrated the airless bubble around him and he sucked in a gulp of air gratefully. “Bruce, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. “Here.”

He plated up some chicken and garlic bread with trembling hands and shoved it at her before beating a hasty retreat to his bedroom, where he curled up in a little ball on his bed in the dark and tried not to think about anything.

-

He knew when Tony came home because his voice mingled with Pepper’s and came muffled through the door. They weren’t arguing, and that was a tiny relief, but it still made him want to curl up in an even tighter ball and clamp his hands over his ears. After a few minutes there was a knock on his door.

“Hrng?” he said, and cleared his throat. “Yeah?”

“It’s me, Bruce,” Tony said through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” he croaked. The door opened and he felt the bed shift as Tony sat down next to him.

“Pepper says you didn’t eat,” he said gently. Bruce shrugged. He felt raw and tired and not the least bit hungry. “Which is a shame because she also says you made dinner tonight, and I was hoping we could all get in on that action. What do you say?”

Bruce sighed a heavy sigh that came up from the depths of his intestines somewhere, but he sat up and rubbed at his eyes, feeling a little less like a four-year-old. Tony was smiling from where he could see him out of the corner of his eye, but it was a strained smile. He stood and offered Bruce his hand, which Bruce accepted, and allowed himself to be led out of his room.

When Pepper saw him she rose up from the chair she was sitting in and enveloped him in a hug.

“Bruce, if I said or did anything—” He shook his head violently.

“No,” he croaked. “No, not you.”

“Then who? What? Bruce, it’s okay, you’re safe here.”

He hiccupped (it was not a sob) and pulled out of her grip slightly and flicked his eyes to the bruise on the side of her face.

“How did…?”

Pepper’s hand flew to the mark unconsciously.

“How did I get this?”

He nodded, feeling foolish, but the feeling was subsumed under a bone-deep exhaustion that simply demanded answers and then sleep.

“It was just an accident at the R&D lab. Some equipment went a little haywire and accidentally hit me and a few other people. I was actually pretty lucky.”

_I was lucky, Bruce. He didn’t hit me that hard. Don’t cry, baby boy. Just go to sleep._

Bruce refused to classify the sound that came out of his mouth as a whimper and just buried his face in Pepper’s neck, trembling.

“Bruce, I’m okay,” Pepper soothed, running her hand up and down his back. “Shhh, I’ve got you, I’m okay.”

He opened his eyes a slit to see Tony standing close to them but not touching, eyes wide. Bruce breathed in a deep, shaky breath and stepped out of Pepper’s embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he said, swiping at his eyes, which were just watering a little from exhaustion, not real tears, though why exactly he was so tired he wasn’t sure.

“Have some chicken,” Tony said, smiling uneasily, and Bruce did, willing them both to forget his tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Pepper came to his room the next night, dressed in yoga pants and a tank top, her hair loose and framing her face, softening and hiding the bruise.

"Mind if I come in?" she asked, knocking on the door frame. Bruce sat up from where he'd been reading on the bed, clearing his throat before inviting her in. She sat next to him, both of them facing towards the large window overlooking the ocean. Bruce started to fidget in the silence, until finally she spoke.

"I was wondering what we could do to make this place feel more like home for you," she said, turning her head and looking at him kindly.

"I do," he protested, "I mean, it does. You've both been... you've been so nice to me. You don't have to do anything."

"I know the last few months have been... really hard for you, Bruce," she started, reaching for him, and suddenly he didn't want to hear any more.

"It's OK," he said quickly, standing up and needlessly straightening some books on his bedside table. "You don't need to do anything."

"Bruce," she said softly, standing up behind him and putting her hand on his shoulder. He whirled around, knocking her hand away.

"I said it's OK!" he shouted, feeling his green self slithering under his skin. He growled and clutched at his head, trying to stem the tingling headache already spreading under his skin. He was dimly aware that Tony had entered the room, but all he could hear was his heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. He tried to slow his breathing, but then Tony came towards him, hands raised, and he roared, and was sucked under the green.  

-

He woke up slowly, as though he'd fallen asleep crying. Whatever he'd been sleeping on was lumpy and rough, and as he tried to sit up, he felt it scrape across his skin painfully. All he could smell was concrete dust, and that made him afraid to open his eyes.

"You awake, buddy?" came Tony's voice, haggard and distorted by the Iron Man suit.

"What happened?" Bruce croaked, reaching up to rub his eyes, which burned.

"Well..." Tony trailed off, and Bruce opened his eyes.

At first all he could see was rubble, but then he recognized the fountain that sat in the middle of Tony's front drive, now leaning at an unstable angle. If he was looking at it from this perspective, he should be in the house. But he was sitting in a field of debris. He cast his mind back, trying fruitlessly to recall the memories from his green time. Finding nothing, he looked down at himself, and then over to Tony, who finally flipped his face plate up. He looked tired. Bruce gathered the remains of his pants around himself and stood up, still shaky from his transformation and from his growing suspicion about what he had done.

"Did I...?" he trailed off, not brave enough to finish that sentence.

"Well, I helped a little," Tony said, standing up as well. Bruce didn't dare look at him.

"Where's Pepper?" he asked, in a high, thin voice.

"She's safe," Tony said, and the bottom fell out of Bruce's stomach because what she was safe from was him.

"What happened?" he demanded again, dizzy from horror and exhaustion.

"You had a little temper tantrum," Tony joked. It, of course, fell flat. Bruce found that bleeding out all his rage as his green self did not mean he was incapable of feeling anything. He sat down heavily on a chunk of concrete, suddenly lightheaded.

"What did I...?" he started.

"Bruce," Tony said firmly, and Bruce turned helplessly to look at him. "I think you should see a professional."

"A professional what?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Tony smirked mirthlessly.

"Pepper's been talking about one for me, but I think your case is a little more urgent."

"A wha- a psychiatrist?" Bruce shivered as the wind picked up. It looked like the sun was starting to rise, and he wondered how long his temper tantrum had gone on for. "I don't need one."

The look Tony gave him was frankly disbelieving.

"I don't!"

“There's no shame in asking for help, kiddo.”

Bruce stood up again. He was pretty sure he was physically incapable of feeling angry right now, but at Tony's hypocrisy his body gave a valiant effort at it anyway. His breath came in shallow gulps, lungs too tired to properly hyperventilate. He knew if he tried to speak he would cry.

“Hey—” Tony started, alarmed, but Bruce couldn't look at him. He could feel slow, queasy ripples waving their way through his body, and the skin on the back of his hands was tinging green and then back to pink. He'd never done two transformations right in a row. He felt like one good jolt of adrenaline was all he needed to give it a try. He assumed the crunching of gravel heard dimly under the thudding of his heartbeat was Tony, but the hand that closed gently on his shoulder was not gloved, nor were the hairs on the knuckles dark enough to be his.

He turned his head in slow motion, and for a moment he had no idea who it was, the face blacked out by shadow and his vision obscured by the piercing light of sunrise, but then the figure lowered its head and it was Steve, and Bruce was so relieved he hiccuped a sob and went limp.


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't pass out, but Steve carried him to one of Tony's convertibles that was miraculously still intact anyway. He set him down in the passenger seat and wrapped his bomber jacket around him, smoothed his hair down once, twice, looking at him kindly, and then went to talk to Tony.

Bruce had no idea what they were discussing and he didn't really care. All he knew was that he was a danger to Pepper and probably also Tony for that matter, and that he couldn't live with them as long as that was true.

Eventually Steve came back to the car and sat down in the driver's seat. He sat there for a minute, just looking at the ocean, while Tony picked through the rubble and didn't look their way.

Bruce couldn't endure the silence.

“Are you... are you disappointed in me?” he asked, his voice cracking horribly. He cleared his throat, but Steve's mouth had already quirked involuntarily into a brief smile.

“No, Bruce, I'm not disappointed in you,” he said, and even though Bruce really should have known Steve would be like that, hearing him say it was still a huge weight off his shoulders.

“I don't think I should stay with Pepper anymore,” Bruce said, and Steve nodded soberly.

“If that's how you feel,” he said. Bruce had expected more resistance, but maybe this was what it was like to be treated like a grown up. He didn't feel like a grown up, wrapped in Steve's too-big coat and barefoot in a car that had probably cost more than his parents' house. “Where will you go?”

There was nowhere to go. He plucked at the zipper tab on Steve's coat and tried to think. He was so tired it felt like his thoughts were slowly swirling around a clogged drain: moving, but too slowly to make any kind of progress.

“Tell you what,” Steve said, fitting some keys into the ignition. Bruce blinked, wondering impotently where he'd gotten those. “Let's go get you some breakfast and we can discuss what your plans are.”

“...'kay,” Bruce said, and he was asleep before they'd left the driveway.

-

When he came to he was still in the car, but Steve was not. He rubbed the sleep grit out of his eyes and sat up, finding himself to be in the parking lot of a Burger King. The top was up, and the doors were locked, and Bruce felt much more clear-headed. This was not an improvement.

He considered his options.

He couldn't go back to Tony's. Imagining Pepper's fear as he bloomed upwards was unbearable. It would probably be better if he didn't see her for a while, at least until he'd gotten things straight in his own head. She needed to know that she was safe from him, and right now she clearly wasn't. His stomach was leaden at the thought, but it was the truth and he had to deal with it.

Nick Fury had seemed almost relieved to see Bruce go, and anyway Bruce had no desire to work for him again. Living next door to Natasha and going to college had been a pleasant dream, but all in all one he'd been glad to wake up from.

He could try striking it out on his own, though he had no money. That made him wonder how Steve had ridden across the country with nothing more than a sleep roll and his shield strapped to his bike. Bruce didn't want to wander, he just wanted somewhere quiet to hide.

Steve unlocked the doors and slipped inside.

“Are you hungry?” he said, setting down a paper sack that wafted out good smells as he closed the door behind him. Bruce nodded.

“Take what you want, you're probably famished,” Steve offered, tipping the bag slightly toward Bruce.

“Thanks,” Bruce said, taking it in hand and pulling out a burger. His voice was hoarse, and he was still wearing Steve's coat and a shredded pair of pants, and the burger tasted so good and he was so lost that a lump got lodged in his throat and it was a struggle to swallow the first bite of burger. The rest came easier, and he started on a second one, still hungry.

“Tony told me you've been having a bad day,” Steve said. Bruce ripped off a piece of the bun and put it in his mouth, letting it soak without chewing. But Steve did not say any more. He swallowed the mushy bread.

“That's one way to put it,” he said dully.

“He wanted me to convince you to get psychiatric help,” Steve said. Bruce froze. Steve went on, smiling slightly. “I told him he should probably look into that himself.”

The laughing cough that barked out of Bruce's throat was completely involuntary, but it dislodged the lump in his throat.

“Do you think I should?” he asked, finally turning to look at Steve. Steve looked at him thoughtfully.

“I think you should start with some new pants,” he said, and Bruce quirked another smile. Steve returned it, but only briefly. “After that... maybe.”

Bruce soberly studied his burger, and plucked out an offending pickle.

“Who would I talk to?” he mused sullenly. “I'd have to talk about the Hulk, and I can't just do that with anybody.”

“That's a good point,” Steve agreed. “I guess you could talk to me.”

Bruce didn't mean to give him such a skeptical look, but Steve returned it with a self-deprecating smile.

“I didn't think you were a psychiatrist,” Bruce teased, taking another bite of his burger.

“I could always read one of those dummy books,” Steve mused playfully. Bruce coughed another laugh.

“You're going to tell me what's wrong with my head with a 'for dummies' book? I'm way too messed up for that to ever work.”

That had been funnier in his head. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, until Steve spoke again.

“I mean it, though. You want to talk, I'll listen.”

Bruce considered it while he finished the burger and started in on the fries. Steve was sitting easily, just patiently waiting. He seemed a lot happier than he'd been in New York, though Bruce wasn't sure how he knew that. He was tan, and his hair was longer, but there was a lightness to him that hadn't been there before. It made him feel a little lighter himself.

He took the ketchup packet Steve handed him and carefully tore it open just enough to squeeze a tiny amount of sauce on each fry as he ate it. It was how he'd always preferred to eat fries, but his father had thought it was weird, and so he'd gotten out of the habit. He'd started doing it again back in New York.

“I wasn't thinking,” he said, holding a sauce-tipped fry without eating it. “I didn't think about what would happen if I lost control around Pepper. That was my fault.”

Steve didn't say anything, but it was an encouraging silence, and Bruce went on.

“I guess I figured Tony could take care of himself, with the armor, and the other me seems to like him, so I guess I thought that would keep Pepper safe too. I never thought about what might happen if I got mad _at_ one of them.”

“What did you used to do, when you got mad? Before the Hulk?” Steve asked, and Bruce was surprised by the answer.

“I _didn't_ ,” he said wonderingly. “I was never allowed to get angry. At first I got punished every time I did, and then after a while I stopped letting myself get angry in the first place. I just... kept it down inside and never let it out.”

“And now every time you get angry the Hulk happens,” Steve guessed. Bruce frowned, chewing thoughtfully on a fry. The food was making it easier to think.

“Not always,” he said slowly. “I can get... a little angry without changing. Sometimes I can change without being angry at all. I've been practicing, like you said,” he added, turning to Steve, who smiled proudly.

“That's good,” he said. “How's that been going?”

“I can mostly control what I do as my green self, as long as I transform on purpose. And I've gotten to the point where I can pretty much transform when I want to. We just never... I never thought about what to do if I did lose control. I thought transforming on purpose would make it easier not to, or something. I didn't think about it.”

“And you're thinking about it now,” Steve said. Bruce brandished another fry agitatedly.

“Yeah! I don't want to be like this for the rest of my life. I don't want to have to keep myself away from people just because I might hurt them when I get angry. I—”

His throat closed up. The words he'd just said repeated themselves in his head until they were pounding in his ears: _hurt them when I get angry hurt them when I get angry hurtthemwhenIgetangry._

He had turned out like his father after all.

Horror turned his blood cold and he shivered violently. Steve was saying something but he couldn't hear it. He clutched the seat of the car with both hands and fought not to vomit. Every time his father had struck his mother or him, every time he'd said stinging words and spat hatred from his mouth, every time he'd been careless or demeaning or cruel, Bruce had promised himself he would never be like that. He didn't care if he ended up as a scientist or a janitor, homeless or dead in a ditch _as long as he didn't end up like his father_.

“Bruce,” Steve was saying, “Calm down.”

“I am calm!” he growled, his voice deeper than normal. He could feel the seat beneath him giving way to his grip. He glanced over at Steve, wondering when he was going to try putting a hand on his shoulder or doing something else comforting, and he thought cruelly that _that_ would be when he struck.

But Steve was just looking at him. His gaze was soft but steady, and Bruce felt himself get caught in it. Steve was strong. Steve had been through this, almost this exact pain, and he hadn't lashed out at anyone. Bruce had always wanted to be like Captain America, but right now he just thought maybe he could be like Steve.

Slowly his breathing evened out and he relaxed his grip on the seat. There was a moment where everything was still, and then Steve said,

“Let's go find you some clothes, Bruce.”

Bruce, spent, just nodded and leaned back in his seat.


	7. Chapter 7

Later that day Bruce got a phone call from Pepper. He held his body very still through the whole conversation, informing her awkwardly that he did not feel like he could in good conscience live with her at the moment and that he hoped he hadn't scared her too badly. She assured him that she was fine, and that Tony was also fine, and had agreed to see a specialist. Bruce gave his congratulations, and then quickly made his excuses and hung up.

He stared down at the phone for a moment while Steve stood waiting. They were in a gas station parking lot, and Bruce was feeling more human in new clothes bought from an outlet mall.

“They're moving into a condo in L.A.,” he told Steve. “While the... while they rebuild the place.”

Steve nodded. Bruce took a deep breath, and then spoke the other thing that was on his mind.

“I was wondering if I could stay with you. For a while. Just till...”

“Sure,” Steve said. “I'm still just wandering around the country, but you're welcome to join me.”

“If I ever—” Bruce began, but Steve cut him off.

“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

“No,” Bruce said firmly, fixing Steve with a stern gaze. “If I transform, I want you to protect yourself. Do whatever you have to. Get away. Do not let me hurt you. Understand?”

Steve quirked an eyebrow at Bruce's tone, but in the end he agreed.

“I won't let you hurt me,” he promised, and Bruce felt much better.

-

They went to Alaska.

“Alaska?” he asked skeptically, chewing on his milkshake straw.

“It was still a territory when I went down,” Steve said. They were still in Tony's car. He'd texted to say they could have it, quickly followed by an admonition to stay safe. And another to remember to send him postcards. And a few more, each more ridiculous than the last, until one final one from Pepper letting them know she was confiscating Tony's phone. “I'd like to see Hawaii too, but I might save that for later.”

“I don't think there's anything to see in Alaska,” Bruce protested mildly, but he didn't really mind. It was pleasant to sit in silence or talk or listen to the radio as they felt like. He was quiet as they passed through Stockton. He had an aunt and uncle there. He'd spent a few summers when he was younger at their house, playing with his cousin while his mother relaxed with her sister. His father had rarely come along, so they were pleasant memories. It was strange to think they now thought he was dead.

When Steve stopped for gas just north of Stockton Bruce was certain he saw his cousin, but when he turned back to find her she was gone.

“Steve,” he said urgently from the passenger seat. Steve ducked his head down to see through the car window from where he was pumping gas. “We need to go. Now.”

Steve didn't ask any questions, just hung up the pump, closed the gas tank, got in the car and drove away.

“We paid for the gas, right?” he said a few minutes later. “When I put the card in—”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. Steve had adapted amazingly well to 21st century technology, but he would sometimes second-guess himself if he got distracted partway through.

“What was that about?” he asked another minute later.

“I... thought I saw something,” Bruce said, unconvincingly. “It was probably nothing.”

Steve seemed skeptical, but he didn't say anything more about it.

-

Alaska turned out to be a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Bruce stood up out of the car and stretched. Then he slowly lowered his arms and was silent. Steve was similarly still on the other side of the car. It was very quiet. Though Bruce could hear a slight wind in the trees and the occasional bird call, there was an underlying stillness that seemed to press on his ears like a physical touch. He shivered, only in part because of the chill in the air, and turned to Steve, who was looking off into the distance at nothing.

“Where'd you find this place?” he asked, and the immense space around them seemed to swallow up his words and rob them of their force.

“Tony suggested it. I think he might have bought it when he heard I was going to Alaska.”

Bruce laughed, and some kind of tension he hadn't been aware of eased.

“That's Tony,” he said, and Steve laughed too. “He made me up a trust fund with like a gajillion dollars in it after I mentioned maybe I'd like to go to college someday.”

“I don't think he knows any other way to show he cares about people,” Steve said. He meant it like Tony was damaged somehow, and Bruce thought maybe he was right.

“New York was...” He tried to think how to put it. “New York bothered him a lot more than he lets on, I think.”

Steve looked at him closely, and Bruce became aware that he'd maybe let something slip that he shouldn't have. But Steve only said,

“He'll be all right.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed halfheartedly. Tony probably would be all right, what with Pepper, and now going to a therapist. Tony had a lot more going for him than just his money and his brains.

“What about you?” Steve asked, and Bruce looked at him, shaken out of his thoughts.

“What about me?” he said.

“Did New York bother you too?” Steve asked simply. Bruce made a face.

“Did it bother _you_?” he shot back. Steve pressed his lips together tightly for a moment, but then he smiled wryly.

“I suppose it did, a little. It bothered a lot of people.”

That hadn't been what Bruce meant.

“He's been doing nothing but building ever since we got back,” he said, leaning on the car roof and looking at Steve intently. “Making suits, over and over again. He has like fifty of 'em now.”

That seemed to catch Steve off guard.

“Fifty?” he repeated. “What on earth could he need fifty suits for?”

“He's got one for every possible scenario he can think of,” Bruce told him. “One for deep sea diving, one for speed, one for strength, one for space, one that goes invisible, one with big pistons on its arms, a ton more I've never even seen. But he was on Mark forty-something last I checked. He even...” Bruce made himself say it. “He even has one for dealing with me.”

Steve looked alarmed.

“He built a suit just to deal with you?”

“He didn't _say_ that's what it was for,” Bruce felt compelled to admit. “But it was big and tough-looking, and sort of green-colored. And... he was wearing it when I... demolished the house.”

He'd mumbled the last few words, but Steve didn't seem to have any trouble hearing him.

“I think that says more about Stark's frame of mind than it does about you, Bruce,” he said firmly, but Bruce just shrugged and shut the car door.

“Let's see what's in the cabin,” he said, walking walking towards it, and, after a moment, Steve shut his door and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jen Walters cameo is from an earlier version of this fic. Just warning you, we're almost probably certainly not going to get any She-Hulk here. Trust me, I am as disappointed as you.


	8. Chapter 8

After eating lunch from the fully-stocked pantry cooked in the full-size (over-size, Bruce thought) kitchen, they went back outside to admire the scenery and chat, and somehow got on the topic of the Hulk.

“You said you'd been practicing,” Steve said. “Would you mind showing me what you've accomplished so far?”

Bruce felt himself brighten.

“Yeah! Let me just...” He hesitated, and then ducked inside to change into baggier pants and remove his shirt and shoes. Tony had bought him special shorts made of extremely stretchy fabric, but he'd left them behind, not having been inclined to go back to the rubble that had been Tony's house just for a pair of pants. He stepped out onto the chilly lawn, feeling much colder than he had with proper pants and long sleeves, and grinned at Steve before reaching deep inside himself for that place where everything felt bigger.

It was easier to transform when he did it on purpose, and the transformation itself was easier; less painful, less horrifying. He just felt a sensation of expansion, encompassing his whole body, that reached out to include his mind and his senses, which, when he was done growing, felt big enough to see and touch and smell the whole world. When he transformed under duress he felt (in the fragments he could remember) stupid and sluggish, thinking thoughts too basic for words. This kind of transformation was like walking a mental tightrope: if he got too overbalanced he could fall either back down into Bruce, or fall into anger and lose control, but if he stayed on the tightrope he could do anything. It was a lot easier to get angry in this form. But it was also easy to feel other emotions more fully. When he caught sight of Steve, looking amazed and pleased and proud, the buoyant feeling in his chest was strong enough to lift his huge mouth into a full, unrestrained grin.

Somehow they ended up playing frisbee with the shield.

Bruce may not have been capable of thinking on the same level as his regular self when he was like this, but his green self had his own intelligence, a perfect sense of where his body was and what it could do. He could leap off buildings knowing instinctively how much force he needed to launch himself exactly as far as he wanted to go, and though Bruce had never played much frisbee, like this he could throw it farther and more precisely than Steve. His favorite trick became throwing it into the wind such that it floated in a big circle around Steve, staying just out of his reach before it came full circle and Bruce caught it again. He threw himself into the game like a child, playing with total abandon and laughing with Steve until he began to get tired.

Not that he got precisely tired, in this form. He wasn't sure he _could_ reach the end of his strength when he was like this. But his sense of himself told him that if he stopped now, his smaller self would merely be tuckered out and pleasantly hungry, rather than famished and sick with fatigue.

He shrank back down and smiled up at Steve, and then a gust of wind hit him and he shivered violently, and for no reason that he could explain, suddenly everything was horrible.

His breathing came rapidly and he looked around at the yard, seeing only destruction. A tree, snapped in half and hanging by thick splinters from its trunk. Long stripes of dirt in the lawn around the house where he'd plowed into the ground. He'd ruined it. He'd done that. He'd been careless again and now look what he'd done.

He became aware that he was breathing too fast when he felt Steve put his arm around him and tell him to breathe more slowly. He tried, and it made his chest hurt, but he eventually evened out his breathing and Steve led him inside, where he wrapped him in a blanket and poured him a mug of hot chocolate, which he found uncharacteristically unappetizing.

Bruce was still shivering and trying valiantly to keep his breathing under control, so he was grateful when Steve folded him into a hug and just held him steady, no comforting murmurs, no empty promises, just stillness and warmth.

He pulled away when he no longer felt like he was going to fly apart and drank his hot chocolate.

“What happened?” Steve wanted to know, and it was the least demanding form of that question Bruce had ever heard.

“I don't know,” he said automatically, but it wasn't exactly true, he did know, he just hadn't been expecting it. Hadn't known how obvious it was until it was already happening. “I haven't... been the Hulk since... since....”

“Since California,” Steve concluded, and Bruce nodded. “Ah. I'm sorry. I didn't think about that.”

“Neither did I,” Bruce told him. He didn't want Steve feeling guilty on his account. He looked out the window and winced at the vegetable carnage he could see from this angle. It didn't, however, look quite as horrific as it had a few minutes earlier.

“I made a mess,” he said despairingly. “I always make a mess. I'm better at not hurting people, but I'm still not careful enough. I'm just too... _big_. I'm too strong. I should just blast myself off to another planet where everything's less fragile.”

“Bruce,” Steve said quellingly. Bruce found he literally could not interpret Steve's tone of voice for several long seconds, and then it occurred to him belatedly that Steve's displeasure was with his self-deprecation.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, tightening his fingers in the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders. He wanted to put a shirt on, but he also didn't want to be alone even for the amount of time it would take him to change clothes. He sat in the kitchen and drank his hot chocolate and tried to turn his brain off. It didn't work. It never worked.

“Want to watch some TV?” Steve offered, and he accepted gratefully.


	9. Chapter 9

The next day they went snowshoeing. Bruce had found a few pairs of snow shoes in one of the closets and decided that physical exertion would help keep his mind off things. Steve acquiesced with neither enthusiasm nor argument.

They took a lunch, and when they got hungry they stopped and ate it on a rise in the land overlooking a wide, clear lake. The natural beauty surrounding him made Bruce feel small, in a way he was not entirely sure he disliked. Without saying a word to Steve he got up and shed his parka and boots, and changed.

He still felt small.

It was amazing. He was standing here, huger and more powerful than any human being had ever been in the history of mankind, and he still felt tiny and insignificant under a sky that seemed to go on forever until it met the edge of a lake that was exactly the same color, where they joined and disappeared around the curvature of the earth. It was a feeling he wanted more of, and suddenly he knew what he needed to do.

Turning to Steve he hunkered down so that Steve's face was level with his, and with as much verbal articulation as he could muster, he said,

“Bruce go. Steve stay.”

Steve looked alarmed, and he stood up abruptly, making green-Bruce straighten also. He wondered why he had thought Steve would let him go without argument.

“What are you—Bruce, where are you going?”

“Empty,” green-Bruce said, gesturing to the wide-open expanse before them. “Hulk like. _Need_ to go. Be back... soon.”

Soon meant “don't worry about me, don't follow me, just let me do this.” It didn't have anything to do with a length of time. Bruce had no idea how long he'd be out there. Steve stared at him, a sandwich hanging limply from his fingers.

“Bruce...” he said softly, as though he wasn't sure what to say. Bruce knew he had to get out of there or he'd never leave. He stuck his hand out like the doodle on the postcard, and Steve, scrunching his face up briefly around what Bruce thought might be unshed tears, extended his own and they shook. Bruce nodded once, and then turned and leaped off the rise without looking back.

-

It was effortless, being like this.

He could hunt and leap and never get cold, and he spent hours just staring at the sky. He didn't have to think. He found he could sit as still as a rock and birds would perch on him. He grew to feel like he was just another creature in the forest, like his human life had been an odd dream he had finally woken up from. Time passed, but he didn't bother keeping track of how much.

One day, as he bent over a clear, sharply cold river to drink, something flew across the sky, its reflection rippling and waving in the water. Green-Bruce stood up and lifted his head. He was so far gone that he didn't immediately identify the particular sound he was hearing, but when the object came into sight he frowned, an unexpected bubble of anger welling up inside him.

The red and gold metal looked harsh and out of place as Iron Man landed next to the forested riverbank, flipping his face plate up and smiling brightly at Bruce.

“Man, you are one hard to find big green mountain man,” he said jovially, but Bruce could see right through his bright tone to the brittle nerves underneath, and fear did indeed have a scent. He bared his teeth and huffed, making Tony's face fall.

“Bruce,” he said, “I'm sorry. We offered to adopt you, and then at the first sign of trouble we let you run away. Maybe we're not fit to be parents, maybe you need more than we can give you, but we'd like to try. For real this time. We miss you. Pepper misses you.”

At her name the fear that had been buried under heaps and mountains of logic and reason and positive thinking reared its head, not having been diminished one bit. In fact, it seemed to have grown: Pepper tucking her hair behind her ear—Pepper looking up at him as he twisted and grew—Pepper's arms around him; _fearfearfearfearfear—_

He reared back, eyes wide and heart pounding, and started stepping backward, bumping into trees and tripping over underbrush. He couldn't be near her, it wasn't safe, there was danger there. He was the strongest thing alive but there were things he couldn't protect himself from, and Pepper was one of them. He'd been angry before, in this form, and felt grief and pain and even joy, but he'd never been afraid, not when he was green and it amplified _everything_ and he needed to shrink down or he was going to do something stupid. There was a part of him that was clamoring to get out and his only salvation was to let it out because it was the smallest, weakest part of himself and that part could do no damage.

Breathing so hard he thought he was going to pass out, Bruce stumbled backwards and shrank, thudding to the ground and feeling the cold finally hit him like a slap. He shivered violently, clenching his teeth together so they wouldn't rattle right out of his skull, and wrapped his arms around himself, holding himself together with all of his might.

Out of the corner of his mind Bruce noticed Tony striding forward, his armor shedding off him in pieces ( _that's new_ ), coming to kneel down next to him and wrap his arms over Bruce's, helping to hold him in place.

“Can't—can't—can't—” Bruce gasped, unsure of what he was even objecting to. Tony shushed him gently, murmuring, “Sure, yeah, of course, we don't have to do anything, just take it easy, Bruce, breath with me, buddy.” It was the same sort of mantra he'd used over speakers to help Bruce through his practice sessions, and somehow it worked to help him unclench a little and stop breathing so hard. It was still bitterly cold, and Tony said something to JARVIS, who answered with an affirmative and began reassembling the suit without Tony in it. Bruce watched in dull fascination as the suit began constructing a tent from out of a pack he hadn't noticed before, and Tony listed off all the ways in which he'd been prepared for coming to the bush.

“—and I've even got a mini cook stove if we need it—ah, there we go, come on, let's get inside and turn the heater on.”

Tony helped maneuver his stiff body into the tent, which was tiny but big enough for the two of them if they huddled close. He accepted the blanket and clothes handed to him by a gold metal hand and helped pull a sweatshirt over Bruce's arms and wrapped him up in a blanket, unfolding another one for himself. He zipped up the tent and switched on a tiny heater which began warming them both immediately, and Bruce started shivering again as his skin warmed up faster than his insides. He looked at Tony warily, their close proximity making pretending not to look at him an impossibility, and watched as he dragged a hand down over his face a few times and then squared his shoulders and began talking.

“Look, this is all my fault, okay? I should never have let you leave. I was... I wasn't in a good place myself, but that's no excuse. I was responsible for you and I let you down, and I'm sorry for that.”

Bruce really couldn't see how any of this was Tony's fault. He was the one who had gotten angry, he was the one who was unstable. He shook his head slowly, mind still fuzzy after the panic and after having been his green self for so long. He felt like he'd been growing moss in his brain. One thought managed to solidify in the haze, however:

“'t's my fault,” he slurred. “I scared Pepper. I—”

“Pepper can take care of herself, Bruce,” Tony told him firmly. “I even made a suit just for her. Okay? She's only scared that we both might have hurt you so much it made you want to run away from us. We—we love you, Bruce. We want you to come home.”

_Home._ Home was a pile of rubble right now. Because of him. Home was his mother singing to him, home was Pepper not being afraid of him, home didn't _exist._ Everything got smaller as he thought of the huge open expanse of wilderness around them, its largeness suddenly intensely frightening instead of the comfort it had been only a few hours earlier. He just wanted to go home. His breathing was coming rapidly again, and his eyeballs felt hot.

“Bruce,” Tony was saying, hands on his shoulders, holding him in place, holding him together. “Shh, it's okay, Bruce, tell me what you're thinking. Okay? Tell me what's wrong.”

But Bruce just shook his head. It wasn't something he could parse into words, it was just the pain of being utterly alone and the pain of being loved by people who had hurt him and the thought that maybe his life could be _better_ now, except it couldn't be better, life didn't happen that way. There was only one thing he wanted, and he said it out loud because even if it was impossible, right then it was the only thing he could think of to say:

“...just want to go home.”

Tony pulled him into a fierce hug, and Bruce let him without protest.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“I, uh, dismantled all my suits,” Tony admitted as they broke camp. Bruce looked at him mutely, too tired to figure out why he was telling him this. Tony continued anyway. “They were a, uh, coping mechanism that got out of hand. So I just have the one now. And the vintage ones, but the others are all gone.”

Bruce grunted, and it sounded like his green self. He wondered how long he'd been out here, and then realized he was in a position to ask.

“How long was I gone?” he croaked. His voice was still hoarse from emotion and disuse. He felt vaguely bruised all over. Distantly he remembered showers and realized he wanted one.

“About three weeks,” Tony said in a low voice. “Which was three weeks too long. I'm sorry it took me this long to come find you.”

Bruce shrugged, tugging on the pair of shoes Tony had handed him. He stood up and waited, and after a moment's hesitation Tony held his arms out from his body and let the suit mold itself to him. Bruce stepped up to him, holding his arm up so that Tony could take hold of him however he needed to. After several false starts Bruce told him to just carry him, and Tony scooped him up a little awkwardly and flew away. The place Bruce had spent three weeks out of time grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared entirely. Then he looked ahead, and watched the landscape race behind him.

-

Steve gave him a hug and some food when they stopped at the cabin, and then relinquished him to Tony's care, which included a small private plane he had somehow managed to land in the clearing by the cabin. Bruce said goodbye dully, beginning to realize that something had happened during those three weeks that had left him unable to feel much of anything. After his initial panic at Tony's appearance, a gray, heavy sense of apathy had set in, and now he let Tony lead and direct him to strap himself in without argument or second thought.

Tony tried to make conversation on the plane ride home, but Bruce couldn't muster anything more than grunts or monosyllabic answers, despite knowing he should probably be making an effort, seeing as Tony was trying so hard. But he just didn't—couldn't—care enough to do so.

When he walked in to the condo where Tony and Pepper were staying and Pepper strode forward, Bruce felt a twinge, but not much more. The bruise on her face was gone. She looked exactly as she had, except—

“You've grown,” she breathed, looking him over, and then enfolded him in a hug. It was true. He was taller than her now. She had always been the same height as him when she was barefoot, but now he had to look down to look her in the eye. He lifted his arms mechanically and returned the hug, his feeling of relief seeming to occur somewhere far distant from him. Still, he felt himself slump with it, and then found that he was so exhausted he literally couldn't stand up anymore. They led him to bed, a bland, professionally decorated room with a handful of his personal belongings arranged according to someone else's aesthetics, and he only had the energy to kick off his shoes before falling asleep on top of the blankets. .

-

When he woke up he was starving, and he wandered into the kitchen and found both of them there, looking domestic and clean sitting at the breakfast bar in casual clothes and sipping coffee. He still felt grungy and inhuman from weeks spent living like a forest creature, and accepted a croissant before going to take a long, hot shower.

Both Tony and Pepper seemed far more relaxed and comfortable with themselves than they had when he'd last seen them. He wasn't sure what it was, but neither of them were quite the ball of neuroses and tension they had been and it was palpable. He felt gray and distant compared to the two of them, seeming just as intimidatingly gorgeous and larger-than-life as they had when he'd first come to live with them. He knew intellectually that they liked him, even loved him, but even with the hot water soaking into his bones and the soap dislodging weeks of grime, he still felt like a totally different species than the two of them. This time he couldn't seem to care as much, and he walked into the kitchen still toweling off his hair, which had gotten longer than he liked it.

Pepper indicated a plate of eggs and a cup of yogurt with granola in it, and he dug in gratefully, snagging a few more croissants for good measure. His last meal had been the soup Steve had given him before handing him off to Tony with a reassuring smile, and that had probably been a full twenty-four hours ago by now. When he began to slow down on the food, Pepper turned to him, and he realized she and Tony were both just sitting there watching him eat apprehensively.

“I'm glad you're home, Bruce,” she said. He set his fork down.

“This doesn't change anything,” he said, suddenly certain of that. The sight of her just sitting there so close to him, vulnerable and breakable, sent a thrill of fear through him, but the feeling was as distant and muffled as everything else. “I'm still too dangerous to be around you. I haven't gotten any better at controlling my temper than I was before. What's going to happen the next time I get angry and you're in the way?”

Tony opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again as Pepper stood, studying Bruce.

“This,” she said, and held her arms out from her body. Pieces of armor flew in from another room and assembled themselves around her, the face piece clicking into place last. Bruce stared, his wonder the sharpest feeling he'd had in days. Pepper's armor was still the red and gold motif that was probably always going to be Tony's thing. But everything about it was sleeker, from the shoulder pads to the shin guards. The helmet was more pointed than Tony's and the mouth of the mask more of a frown than a grimace. It was also clear, without being exaggerated, that the body beneath the plating was female. The face plate slid back and Pepper smiled softly at him.

“What do you think?” she asked, and all Bruce could think was that it could not possibly be adequate.

“You shouldn't need a high tech suit of armor just to live with me,” he said bitterly. “Even if it could protect you.”

“Hey, now, I resent these aspersions being cast on my work,” Tony butted in. “This is the strongest armor I've ever made.”

“Oh, yeah, because in three months of testing, we totally found a material I couldn't break,” Bruce drawled sarcastically. “Neither of you _get it_. I'm not—”

“No, Bruce, _you_ don't get it,” Pepper cut in sharply. Startled, he fell silent. “We're a family. Whether we end up signing adoption papers or not, nothing's ever going to change the fact that we love you. And what families do is help each other. You have a problem, and rather than ignoring it and leaving you to deal with it on your own, we're going to solve it together.”

Bruce found he had nothing to say to that. The armor disassembled and flew back to wherever it had come from, and Pepper stepped forward, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. Bruce let her, the hazy numbness concealing something wild and ugly. Fear coursed dully through him, fear of—he didn't know. He didn't know what was making him so afraid, and that was staring to make him angry.

“Will you let us help you, Bruce?” she asked softly, and her hair was soft and framed her face beautifully even though it had been mussed by the helmet. Bruce suddenly thought of something that had been gnawing at him quietly for months, and he took a deep breath.

“You—you can't—I can't be your son,” he said, fear winning against anger for a moment. The image of Pepper arching her back as Tony's lips played against her throat flashed through his mind, but that wasn't it, not really. It was that parents weren't people who joked with you and fought beside you and treated you like an equal. He could tell Tony and Pepper loved him and he loved them right back, but they could never be his parents even if they tried.

Pepper smiled, a little sadly, and said,

“That's okay, Bruce.”

“I'd make a terrible father anyway,” Tony declared, and Pepper's face crumpled into a smile.

“I'd have to agree with him on that,” she said conspiratorially to Bruce, who couldn't help the slight lift at the corner of his mouth.

“But I...” Bruce continued, searching for the words. “I think if... I think... I'm willing to try. Being a family,” he said, lifting his eyes to Pepper's and feeling foolish at the amount of courage it had taken to do that. Her smile deepened, and she reeled him in for a hug.

“I'm so glad to hear that,” she murmured. Bruce heard Tony get down off his barstool and walk over to them, and he flung his arms around them both.

“There's my two favorite people in the world,” he said, as though they'd been lost and he'd just found them again.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” JARVIS said, mock offended, and Bruce laughed through the haze along with Pepper and Tony, feeling, for the first time in over a month (and a lot longer than that), like he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who commented, especially [rabidsamfan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidsamfan/pseuds/rabidsamfan), [TheDamselfly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDamselfly/pseuds/TheDamselfly), and Annette Chanelle for helping me work through my block and finish this sucker. You guys rock.


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